Improbable Cause
by Liv Wilder
Summary: SPOILERS. Pre-5x05 story based on the Promo. "There's such a look of absolute relief on his face when he answers the door to her that Kate allows him to draw her inside by the elbow and enfold her in an all-encompassing hug. But her body is stiff inside his embrace, rigid, and he pulls back after just a few seconds to look at her..." COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 Breaking Down

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Boo!

A/N: Pre-5x05 imagining based on the Promo. For BlueOrchid96. More angst than I normally write. You have been warned!

* * *

**Improbable Cause**

**Chapter 1 - Breaking Down**

"_Kate._"

There's such a look of absolute relief on his face when he answers the door to her that Kate allows him to draw her inside by the elbow and enfold her in an all-encompassing hug. But her body is stiff inside his embrace, rigid, and he pulls back after just a few seconds to look at her face when she steadfastly refuses to yield to him; to melt in his arms the way she always does now.

"Castle," she says, moving back a little and away from him, putting a modicum of space between them, her heart in her throat as his familiar scent engulfs her. "If Gates knew I was here…"

She leaves the rest of the statement hanging in the mid-air, unspoken, but writ large enough that they both know what she's saying.

"_If Gates…?_" he stares at her in disbelief, running a hand through his hair, unsettling its careful arrangement as he does so, wondering just how things got so bad, so serious for him, so damn fast.

"You're a suspect in a _murder investigation_, and I'm…_I'm_ the detective of record, Castle," she needlessly reminds him.

Because, yeah, it's not like he'll forget _this day_ in a long while.

"You might not be a cop, but you've been around long enough to know how that goes," she says, and he can tell from her posture, her rigid stance, and the set of her beautiful mouth just what this is costing her; holding herself back from him right now. Always the true professional.

She bites her lip, an adorable trait usually, he thinks, only now it's a sign of hesitancy and fear. And then she takes a deep breath.

"Castle, what do you want?" she asks finally, cutting her eyes up to meet his, exhaustion painting her face paler, sallower, than normal, her eyes and cheeks looking sunken; as hollowed out as her heart, as hollowed out as he feels.

"What do I…?" he asks, his tone disbelieving, eyes wide. "I _want_ my _girlfriend_. _My partner_," he blurts, half angry, the other half just heartbreakingly desperate and so, so, terribly hurt.

"Castle, we have your _fingerprints_ at the _crime scene_, and we have you on security camera buying jewelry for...for the _victim_," she chokes, her lips drawing into a thin pale line as she fights to hold it together.

Because this is so bad, so much worse than losing him to Gina that summer or…or watching him parade that stewardess, Jacinda, in front of her face. He did those things because she rejected him, because she lied to him and hurt him. But _this…?_ She's given him everything she has, all of her now; her heart, her body, her…her future happiness… She was scared rigid when she held herself back from him, fearing that he might break her heart. But she battled through, realized she was so much poorer without him, and then they were together, and it was just so much more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. So close to perfect. But now…now the jinx that is her life, the curse that dogs her, is back to ruin her happiness and…

"Four years, Kate. _Four years_ we've worked together, case after case, honoring the victims, side-by-side, hour on end. I thought that counted for _something_…I thought…"

She cuts him off.

"It did…does, but…"

She shakes her head, uncertain exactly what she wants to say, because this is a living, freaking nightmare.

"I thought you _knew me_, Kate, and, worse than that, I thought _I _knew _you,_" he carries on, ignoring her use of the past tense, needing to get this off his chest because it's been brewing since she showed up at his home, a home he'd hoped to share with her some day, mob-handed, with uniforms for back-up and two of their best friends for…_what?_ _Support_? Yeah, support while his so-called friends arrested him, took him in for questioning at the Precinct where he 'works', and then released him on his own recognizance pending further investigation.

"Four years I waited for you, Kate. Four years just for the chance to get to love you, to prove to you that I'm _more_ than the man you saw when we first met. Do you _really_ think I'm gonna throw all of that away, and for _what?"_

His voice is raised to a level she's only heard him use twice before. Twice before when her life was in peril and he was trying to save her. And now, in a strange kind of a way, she supposes it is again. The life she thought she had mapped out with him is crumbling into dust.

"I…I hold you in my arms and I watch you fall asleep at night. And…and I just feel so…so _blessed_. I _love_ that your face is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, that I get to kiss you awake. It just brings be so much joy. _You_ bring me so much joy. You mean _everything_ to me, Kate. _We _mean everything…and yet…"

He looks exhausted, wrung out, when he palms his face, rubs his hand down over his eyes until his fingers rasp across the shadow coating his jaw, and she's not fairing much better. Her lip is trembling and there are fat tears blurring her vision, steadfastly refusing to fall, from the words that mean so much to her. Words she is desperate to hold onto, to draw inside of herself, to feed on, to nourish, to wash away this grain of doubt that's been germinating and sprouting all day.

"You know, when I asked you that first morning after you came to me…" he laughs, hollowly, "…funnily enough, _begging _forforgiveness," he says bitterly. "I asked if you were _in_ this, and you said _yes_, it wasn't some kind of crisis thing for you. In case I didn't make myself quite clear that beautiful morning, I meant '_in this'_ as in, '_in sickness and in health_, in this. As in, '_through bad times and good'_. As in, '_til death do us part'_, Kate, until I could persuade you that it wasn't too soon to put a ring on your finger. That's how much this…_us_…means to me," he said, eyes shining fiercely.

"But the _fingerprints_? And…and the _jewelry_?" she chokes out on a sob, needing him to explain it away.

Because she loves him so much that if he can come up with anything half credible right now she'll grab it with both hands and hang on for dear life.

"I was buying it for _you_, Kate. _You,_" he says, hating that he even has to explain this, and to _her_ of all people.

"The fingerprint, I don't know, and how the necklace got to be there, I can only guess at this point. But I had that piece custom made for you. For our three month anniversary," he chokes, looking down at the floor and shaking his head gravely.

"Oh god."

Her hand flies to her mouth, and then the tears spill down her face as if on cue.

"Yes, _oh god_. Because you don't _trust _me, do you? You thought I _did_ this. And how _could you_? You _know_ me."

His voice rises again in anger and in pain.

"I'm sorry," she sobs, taking a step towards him, which he matches with his own step backwards; needing to maintain the distance between them right now. "I'm so sorry, Castle. I…oh god, this is such a mess. I didn't mean to come across as if I doubted you. Of _course_ I know you could never murder anyone."

She says this, blinking all the while, as if the reality of it, the reality of what she's been holding onto - that he might actually be guilty - is now the most ridiculous thought she's ever entertained. As if his innocence was blatantly apparent all along.

"_Do you_? Do you _really?_ Because you've been doing a pretty good job of looking like you don't trust a damn word I say," he snaps, pacing away from her across the living room floor and then rounding back towards her again, breathing heavily through his nose.

"I…"

She bites her lip, doesn't know what to say to fix this. "You're one of the kindest, gentlest, most generous people I've ever met…so, yes, _of course_ there's no way you could have…"

"I think you should leave now."

The words are spoken so quietly, his tone so controlled - simmering anger dipped in the worst possible layer of hurt - that at first she thinks she's misheard him.

"I'm sorry?"

She's looking for clarity, for him to repeat himself so that she can be certain of the words she just heard him say. Instead she gets a cold, "Yes, you said that already. Now, please, Kate, just go."

"But, Castle?"

Her face is a mess, contorted with something akin to grief. Her eyes are wide, bloodshot and tear-stained, pupils dilated by panic that she's run out of time to fix this.

But he ignores all of that. Too tired to even argue anymore, he walks past her the few steps it takes to reach his own front door, and then he opens it quietly, without drama, and remains beside it until she turns around, walks towards him slowly, hoping all the while that there's been some terrible mistake, that he'll ask her to stay. That this isn't the end for them.

"_Rick, please?_" she says, as close to begging as she's ever gotten in her whole, adult life.

"I'll call you," he replies flatly, eyes not even meeting hers for a second, and as she wanders back out through his front door, numb as a zombie, the tears begin streaming down his face.

A/N: Oh dear. How could I? Yeah, well, I think I just did. Oops! Guess I'd better write another chapter to fix it? BlueOrchid96, you did ask… ;) Liv


	2. Chapter 2 A Moment of Clarity

Disclaimer: Do I have to? Y'all know the drill.

* * *

**Improbable Cause**

**Chapter 2 – A Moment of Clarity**

Kate drifts along the hallway like a ghost, now on the wrong side of his front door. Not wanting to leave, no, definitely not that, but feeling that she really has no choice, since Castle basically just threw her out.

She presses the call button for the elevator, rests her forehead against the cool metal of the doorframe, salty tears still drying on her cheeks, making her skin feel uncomfortably tight.

Finally, the elevator dings to announce its arrival, and Kate throws one last look over her shoulder, one last chance for Castle to perform an about-face and come out begging for her to come back. And she would go, oh how she would go to him. But…

Nothing. Silence.

So she prepares to drag her exhausted, grieving body into the elevator car when the doors slide open, and…

"_Darling!_ Oh how love-_ly_... _Kate, dear_? Whatever's the matter?" asks Martha, her face going from unconcealed delight to worried horror in the nanosecond it takes to rearrange her facial muscles.

"Oh…hi…Martha. I…I'm sorry. I should really…" she stumbles, blubbers, barely managing to stop from throwing herself into her boyfriend's mother's arms. (Is he even her boyfriend anymore?)

"Honey, talk to me. You look - and please don't take this the wrong way, kiddo - but, a little less…uh, _put together_ than you normally do, darling. So, tell me, what thoughtless stunt has my son pulled this time?"

"It's not…um…Rick, he…_oh Martha_," chokes Kate, finally giving in to her own despair, tears welling up in her eyes once more, distorting everything like a fisheye lens.

Because right now she's prepared to say goodbye to pride, and goodbye to privacy, if she can only find a way to fix this, and Castle's mother might just be the best ally she could recruit for this mission.

"Why don't we ride downstairs, dear? Get some air? Hmm?" suggests Martha kindly, bracelets jingling as she leads Kate into the elevator before the doors can close on them.

Kate looks over her shoulder one last time towards the front door of the loft, her eyes wild, frantic with worry to be leaving him behind without having resolved things. But Martha keeps a firm grip on her arm, turning them both until they're facing front as the elevator quickly descends to the lobby.

* * *

Eduardo, the doorman, nods good evening to both women, giving no hint of surprise at seeing Martha come straight back down at this time of night. He opens the building's front door for them, bowing slightly, discreetly averting his eyes from Kate's obvious distress as they head across the street to the small corner restaurant where they can still get good coffee at this late hour.

Martha raises a hand to wave at the waitress, the multi-colored, Pucci-print silk of her sleeve sliding down her thin arm from wrist to elbow as she signals for a table for two.

"Decaf Americanos, two," she requests, holding up two fingers and firing the order from halfway across the room, voice projecting as if back on a Broadway stage so the waitress will leave them alone as they settle down by an open French window, two of only five patrons left in the whole establishment.

"Now, I make it a policy never to interfere in my son's love-life," Martha begins, clearly playing the straight man tonight.

And despite the situation, Kate almost laughs out loud at what she knows to be the complete lack of truth in Martha's statement. However, she manages to bite her tongue and let the woman continue, just grateful to have someone to talk to right now.

"_But_, and believe me when I say this is a one-time thing, I like you, Kate. And more than that, I respect you, darling. You're smart and kind and beautiful. You have a good head on your shoulders, and God knows Richard has made more than his fair share of mistakes when it comes to women over the years."

Kate cringes at the thoughts and images this statement conjures up, wondering if she really wants to hear what comes next.

"So, I was delighted when the pair of you finally worked things out. You're good for him, Kate, and call me biased, but I believe he may be good for you too," she suggests, ducking her head a little, a small, encouraging smile on her lips as she tries to catch Kate's eye and gentle her out of whatever this is.

Kate gives her a small, press-lip smile in response, then dips her head to stare at some graffiti etched into the worn tabletop, curls tumbling forward to conceal her face. And although it's really more grimace than actual smile, she tries for Martha's sake, because she likes and admires this woman a lot, for her self-belief, her resilience, and for the pretty darn good job she's made of raising her son all by herself to become the man that Kate Beckett has fallen in love with.

* * *

That thought, that simple kernel of truth - that she is in love with him, truly, completely in love with him - sends a startling resurgence of hope and determination through Kate as she listens to Martha continue to speak. But it also stirs a sadness and an anxiety within her that she was so easily swayed from her path of absolute trust in her partner, her lover, by the opinion of others and a few scattered facts that seemed to point towards a different truth.

"So, to find you looking so distressed tonight, my dear…" Martha continues, reaching for Kate's hand at this point, her chunky, aqua cocktail ring catching the candlelight being given off by the single, scented votive set inside a miniature, decorative hurricane lamp.

She only withdraws to her own side of the table when Maria, their server, approaches with two solid-looking, white ceramic mugs and a half-full Bunn carafe of inky, black coffee.

"The machine break, Ms. Rodgers. We waiting for part," she apologizes to Martha, explaining the rather stewed brew.

Maria slops the coffee into both mugs, quickly but skillfully, without spilling a drop, before producing a little container of sugar and sweetener sachets from the front pocket of her black apron, placing them on the table between them.

* * *

"I have been told on many an occasion that I am a great listener, and pretty good at dishing out advice," Martha carries on, stirring a half-packet of Truvia into her cup. "Alexis and Richard have both been known to partake of my wisdom; to sip at the fountain of knowledge, if you will," she says airily, waving a hand with casual, imperial grace. "But I'm no mind-reader, kiddo. So how about you tell me what this little upset is all about, hmm? And let's see if we can't sort it out between us?" she asks, so kindly, her face betraying such earnest concern for her that Kate almost starts to cry all over again.

She dumps half a sachet of brown sugar into her own coffee cup, needing the hit to get her body and mind functioning again after the shock it's been through, and then she stirs for what feels like whole minutes before she finds the strength to look up at Castle's mother, finding her soft, open gaze just waiting for her. And finally she begins to speak.

"We caught a case a couple of days ago…I don't know if Rick…?"

Martha shakes her head and holds up her hand to silence Kate.

"Darling, I don't know if you've noticed, I know you've been a little _busy_ lately," she grins, adding a wink that makes Kate blush. "But I've been trying to make myself scarce to, _you know_, give you two a little _privacy_," she says, waving her hand between them.

Kate flushes further, and her heart clenches for the closeness and intimacy she so loves sharing with her partner; a closeness she isn't anywhere near ready to give up. Because it has shocked and surprised her just how well they fit together, just how comfortable this is; being a couple, even although they're still trying to keep it from their colleagues and friends, even when it's still so new for both of them too.

"So I haven't spoken to Richard in a couple of days. What does this case have to do with you two?"

Kate explains about the murder, the evidence trail so far – Castle's fingerprint and the jewelry store footage – while Martha sits patiently across from her, entirely focused, absorbing every detail without interruption. The woman wasn't kidding – she _is_ a good listener.

When she finishes, Kate is the very picture of embarrassment. Because saying these things out loud to her partner's mother – and frankly, repeating them to a brick wall would have the same effect at this point – only serves to clarify how stupid she's been for believing, even for a second, that Richard Castle could have anything to do with this.

Murder someone? The man who touches her more tenderly than any man ever has? The man whose eyes shine with love for her the second they are alone together? The man who can make a handshake in a crowded room feel like the warmest, most intimate, heart-melting kiss. The man who raised his daughter single-handedly to be such an intelligent, amazing, young woman? What the _hell_ was she thinking?

Kate groans inwardly. Feeling more than a little sick, she pushes her coffee cup aside. She listened to everyone around her, instead of listening to her heart. Seemingly irrefutable evidence has been wrong so many times before, in countless cases she's investigated over the years, but she's pretty sure Castle has never lied to her, and that's the one, key fact she should have held onto, kept front and center from the very beginning.

She realizes with sudden, startling clarity just how badly she has failed him.

* * *

"Oh god. What was I thinking?" she groans, letting her forehead fall forward onto her hand, her eyes dropping closed in shame, her bottom lip slipping once again between her teeth. "_Martha?_" she moans, waiting for the older woman's damning judgment because that's exactly what she deserves.

Instead, what she gets is a look of extreme sympathy and another warm squeeze of her hand; the Castle-Rodgers clan's capacity for forgiveness and generosity seemingly a genetic trait.

"My dear we all make mistakes," she says softly. "I'm sure this one can be fixed without too much trouble," she reassures her, patting the top of her hand.

"He just threw me out. Well…asked me to leave. And the look on his face…" Kate moans, shaking her head as she remembers the sadness and hurt in his beautiful eyes, the exhaustion and disappointment on his face. "And who could blame him?"

"Kate, darling?" says Martha, gently reminding her that she's still here when she sees the younger woman disappear inside her head to that well of despair she carries around with her. "Richard waited a long time for you. Fought for you, actually, in his own way. You mean the _world_ to that boy. If you love him, as I believe you do, then perhaps now is the time to return that favor, _hmm?_ And fight for him too?"

"Do you think he'll even listen?" asks Kate, her voice small and uncertain, afraid to even hope.

Because would _she_ if the roles were reversed?

"If I know my son, he'll protest for…_oh_, a few seconds at most, and then he'll welcome you with open arms, darling. He may have been married twice before, Kate, but neither of those women put the light in his eyes that you so easily do. He's a transformed man since he met you, my dear - more engaged with life, ambitious, vibrant. You two have something rare together, something truly special. You both saved one another from a poorer life apart. Don't _waste _the opportunity you've been granted out of pride or fear, Kate. Grab hold of it with both hands and don't let go until he hears you out," she counsels.

* * *

Kate is grinning when Martha finally finishes speaking, her whole body vibrating with energy and hope.

"Then I guess I should really…?" she says, tilting her head towards the street.

"Then I guess you should, darling. Take your time. I'll make myself scarce," Martha tells her, giving her a warm, motherly smile that has her choking up and reaching for the woman's hand.

"Thank you, Martha. I really mean that. I don't know what I would have done without…"

"Just make it right, my dear. That's all the thanks I need," says Martha sagely, raising her hand in a gracious wave as Kate rises from the table and heads for the door, knowing exactly what she needs to do now, not a second more to lose.

_A/N: I've been overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. It seems this little story needed more than one chapter to fix it, and I do love a little Martha. Kate's hearing with Rick should round things off in the next one if you can bear with me. Thank you for all the funny, heartfelt reviews. I hope I can do this justice and not just raise sales of Kleenex! Liv_


	3. Chapter 3 The Whole Truth

Disclaimer: Still not mine folks.

* * *

**Improbable Cause**

**Chapter 3 – The Whole Truth**

Kate is breathless, her heart racing, when she finally reaches Castle's front door, despite the fact that she just rode the elevator all the way up to his floor.

She hesitates in front of the shiny, solid-looking door, her hand raised, ready to knock. She lowers her fist, pushes her fingers through her hair, paces in a tight circle, trying to calm her thundering heart, trying to force more air into her constricted lungs, knowing that she has one good shot at this, and has to make every second she gets in front of him and every word that comes out of her mouth count.

She addresses the door once more, rolling her shoulders back as she squares up to it as if it's a tricky perp she's preparing to take down. She shakes out her hands and arms, trying to loosen up the muscle-aching tension that's suddenly seizing up her body.

When she finally knocks, firmly, confidently, she steps back right after and awaits his response, listens for the familiar sound of his self-assured footfalls on the hardwood floor. But seconds pass and the silence stretches out, not one single sound coming from inside the loft. Kate briefly wonders if he could have gone out while she and Martha were across the street. But she quickly discounts that idea when she remembers how upset he was, the terrible look of hurt and betrayal on his face, even when she told him she'd made a mistake. And she knows him so well now, she realizes. He likes to lick his wounds in private. He's got to still be inside, and that means he's ignoring her.

* * *

Kate bites her lip in a moment of indecision, frowns as she thinks back over Martha's advice – that she should fight for him, that she owes him that, that it's _her_ turn to save them now.

She fingers the cool metal of the door key she has resting in her pocket; the one Martha pressed into her palm before she left the restaurant. "He likes to sulk. Don't let that put you off, darling. Use this if you have to," she had said, handing Kate the key off her own key chain, assuring her the doorman would let her in later.

Kate runs her index finger along the roughed edges, tracing the unique landscape of the key, and then she takes a definitive step forward and slides it into the lock before she can back out, turning it to the right and lowering the handle with her other hand as she does so, trembling fingers grasping the cool, brushed metal for support.

The door swings open easily, the familiar, expansive space beyond now softly lit by just a couple of table lamps either side of the couch, the loft much gloomier than when Kate left – was asked to leave – only an hour ago.

She steps inside, still feeling unsure about being here uninvited, but knowing that she needs to do this, for Castle as much as for herself.

So she drops her bag by the table in the entryway and carefully places Martha's key on its polished surface, trailing her fingers over the rich patina, appreciating the warm solidity of the wood as she gathers herself.

She stands still inside the threshold breathing steadily, listening for the familiar sounds of her partner's home as it prepares to sleep – the click and buzz of the air conditioning, the quiet purr of the refrigerator, the expansion and contraction of the wooden floor – all noises she's come to think of as the heartbeat of her lover's home. His warm home where she feels so comfortable and so happy that it scares her sometimes, but leaves her wanting…more, always more of him, with him.

* * *

Once her eyes adjust, she sees the light from Castle's office leaking through the open bookcase shelves; the books like a miniature city silhouetted from behind, and she heads straight towards the light like a homing pigeon, her heart hammering.

She lifts her hand to rap her knuckles against the wood to announce her presence, but holds back when she sees him sitting at his desk with his back to her, a crystal tumbler of Scotch resting by his arm, the half-empty bottle standing sentry nearby, still uncapped, beside his vintage, chrome Anglepoise lamp.

She's pretty sure he must have heard her footsteps, and briefly wonders if he's fallen asleep, or, if he's been drinking since she left, maybe he's too drunk to care.

* * *

"What do you want, Kate?" he says, without turning around, and she startles, shocked by the sudden rich depth of his voice when it breaks the silence.

He sounds completely awake, not in the least bit like he's been drinking. A cold layer of hurt laces his words, and there's a rough edge to his voice from lack of use.

"I told you I'd call."

"Thought I'd save you the trouble," she replies, trying to jolt them into their familiar back and forth, hoping they can find their groove, and a quick way out of this before any more damage is done.

He apparently has no reply to this, since he just sits there mute and unmoving, save for a quick, jerky lift of his arm. Is he…did he just wipe away a tear?

"Castle, can we talk?"

She needs to fix this now.

"Sorry. But I'm all talked out. Tends to happen when you find yourself on the other side of the interview room table for hours on end, answering questions about yourself that fill you with horror," he adds bitterly.

"Fine. Then you can listen," says Kate, determined not to be put off until she gets this all out.

Because for once _she's_ going to be the one pushing her way into _his_ _life_, just like he's done for her so many times in the past when he was convinced it was the right thing to do for her.

"Please yourself," says Castle, shoving the heavy crystal tumbler across the desk a small way with the back of his hand until it collides with the bottle of Single Malt, the two clinking dully.

"Just how much of that stuff have you had?" asks Kate, having a flashback to late nights with her father, and needing to gauge how receptive he's likely to be to the truth, if he'll stay awake long enough for her to bare her soul and still remember it in the morning.

"None. Couldn't stomach it."

He laughs bitterly.

"You know things are bad when you can't even drown your sorrows."

"Okay, first off, you can cut the self-indulgent crap, Castle. I didn't come here to witness your little pity party."

"Just why _did_ you come here, Kate?" he asks, finally spinning his chair to face her, eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "'Cause I _do _remember asking you to leave. Funny thing is, I _don't_ remember asking you to come back again. And just how did you get in here anyway?" he asks, looking past her in the direction of the front door.

"Your mother."

"You _called_ my mother?" he asks, sounding incredulous.

"No, I met her in the hallway as I was getting in the elevator. We went for coffee, she pushed her key on me, told me to go sort things out."

"Oh great, so the coven convened and _what_? Decided poor old Richard needed a little intervention?"

"No, Castle. Two people who…" she hesitates, the words catching in her throat in the face of this uncharacteristic jag of anger from him, "…_care_ about you, want to make things right," she says, her tone softening, all hint of chastisement gone. "Please, Rick. We have to sort this out."

"If you…_care_ so much, why don't you trust me?" he asks, and the question is so heartfelt, so honest, and he knows she's struggling still, even after everything they've been through together, to express her deepest feelings for him. But even when he's _this mad_ at her, _this wounded,_ he lets her off the hook from pressing her to say the words he really wants to hear.

"I _do_ trust you. I _do_. With my _life_, Castle. There's no one I'd rather have by my side, at work, in life, for the whole nine yards. I made a mistake, okay. It happens. I'm not perfect. But you _know_ that by now, so stop holding me to these impossibly high standards of yours."

She's trying to lighten things up, because they already joked about this; about how he sees her as nothing less than a perfect creature, when in truth she's full of human flaws and frailties just like everyone else. But the in-joke falls flat and he just looks at the floor, the stubborn edge to his chin so far unsoftned by her words.

* * *

Kate sighs, and tries again.

"Rick, I want this, want _us_, what we've been building here, _so much_. But it's not always as simple and straightforward as saying the words and wanting it to happen."

"But it _is_ that simple, Kate," he insists. "If you let it. But you _have _to trust me."

"I told you I trust you already," she repeats, hoping somehow it'll sink in, what she's saying.

"Today says otherwise," he throws back at her glumly.

"Today was a massive mistake on my part. But what I realized, talking to your mother tonight, was that it had _nothing_ to do with your guilt or the case or the murder, and _everything_ to do with it being about another woman."

His head snaps up at this and she suddenly has his full attention.

Kate is just figuring this out for herself, completely on the fly, and she needs to direct this new self-knowledge in a way that will help them both. She finds a recent example she thinks might help.

"When we went out to the Hamptons a couple of weekends ago, do you have _any_ _idea_ how hard it was for me to take the guided tour around your beautiful home while you talked about interiors and remodeling, wondering just who'd been there before me, did Gina have a hand in the décor, did Jacinda make it out that far? Hmm?"

"And I told you at the time, Kate, _none_ of those women were you."

His expression is so earnest and sincere that it tugs at the heart for them to be fighting like this. But she knows she has to get all of this out on the table so that he understands her side of things; the insecurity that still lingers with her over his past.

"Yes, but two years ago, one of them should have been me," she says quietly, and his eyes cut to hers, alert and wary and questioning.

"After our second year working together…" she begins hesitantly, because there is so much from their past that they haven't discussed, and she's gambling that going back will help them.

"Mmm?"

"You asked me to go out there for the weekend."

"Yes, I remember. You turned me down."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. I broke up with Demming, and I pulled you out of that little leaving party the boys were throwing for you to tell you that I was…that I wanted to go with you. And so, seeing all of that - the house, the beach, the pool - everything we could have been enjoying back then, kind of brought it all back. How hurt I felt when you left that summer and never called."

"Wait…you mean…? Kate, tell me I've got this wrong. Tell me…"

"Gina showed up just as I was about to…just as I was going to tell you that I wanted to accept your offer, that I wanted to give us a shot. And God it hurt, Castle. I hadn't said anything at work, but I knew that everyone was watching when you walked off into the sunset with your ex-wife, and…"

Kate shakes her head slowly at the memory of a situation she knows she had a major hand in creating.

"So you see, I have kind of an issue with you and other women that I really need to deal with if we're going to make a go of this."

"If I'd known…" he says plaintively, still fixating on that lost opportunity to be with her back then, wondering where they'd be now, two years down the track – married, a family, baby on the way? Or broken up, the mystery solved, his short attention span kicking in once the new wore off?

"The thing that hurt most, and continued to fuel my mistrust of you in this one small area, is that you _really_ seemed to want me there, and we _really_ seemed to be getting closer, and yet when I put you off, you couldn't wait two minutes to see if I'd change my mind, or work on me a little longer. You just gave up on us, and filled my spot with someone else, as if you just couldn't bear to be there alone, and so anyone was better than no one. I lost a little faith in you that day. I guess that's maybe why it took me so long to trust that I could have a relationship with you that would be open and honest...mature, you know?"

"_Open?_ And _you're _just telling me all of this _now_?"

He's raising his voice again, hurting from the evidence of his own stupidity and the miscommunication and crossed-wires they seem to specialize in, for two people who can be so much in sync in so many other ways.

"I thought it was water under the bridge, not worth raising. But it obviously isn't," says Kate by way of explanation.

"I see," he says, withdrawing into himself, wary and unsure exactly what this means for them, but pretty certain it can't be good.

"Castle, you have to listen to me…"

"_Listen_ to you?" he cuts in, his voice rising angrily again. "_Why_ should I _listen_ to you, Kate, when I find out tonight that you're second guessing me without sharing what's on your mind, or allowing me any opportunity to make my case?"

* * *

His words hit home, like a familiar script playing out in front of her; a play she's seen before, a part she's been the understudy for for longer than she can remember. Suddenly she knows exactly what she has to say - this her chance to step out onto the stage and prove herself to him.

"Because I love you, Castle. You should listen to me because I love you and I want this to work. Everything you said about our first morning together…? That's what this is for me too. I don't know how to do this, but I want to find a way, and surely that has to count for something?"

He's staring at her now, his eyes softened from that steely, flinty blue, to the rich lapis she loves to see when emotion overwhelms him and his heart rules his head.

"Wait a minute. Back it up a second. What did you just say?"

He leans forward in his chair, his hand covering his mouth, holding so much inside as he stares at her, focusing all of his attention on her face.

"That I want to try…that I'm not good at…"

"Before that," he says breathlessly, his heart pounding with barely contained hope.

And it dawns on her, what he needs to hear from her again, the words he needs her to impress upon him.

"I love you?" she says, the words more of a question, but coming out loud and clear all the same.

He nods slowly, a smile breaking out on his face, eyes crinkling up at the corners, the light from his desk lamp dancing in the moist glow she see blooming there; two perfect swimming pools of blue.

"I thought that's what you said."

She's smiling back at him now, still standing in the doorway, a beautiful, sparkling luminosity lighting up her face, eyes burning with it; open and trusting and filled with that love she can finally talk about.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," she offers quietly, biting her lip and shaking her head with faint embarrassment. She looks up shyly, grinning at him, curls dancing as she moves.

"Better late than never," he says, finally reaching out for her hand.

A/N: So they're almost there. Anyone in the mood for an M rated final chapter? They both have a lot of making up to do, so I think I could swing it. Let me know if you're up for that? Otherwise, it was great fun guys. Thanks for all the amazing reviews. Liv


	4. Chapter 4 Slaying Ghosts

Disclaimer: Do I have to? It's depressing!

* * *

_**Improbable Cause**_

___**Chapter 4 – Slaying Ghosts**_

_A/N: No rating change for this chapter. Seems this pair had more to say. Next one's 'M', I promise._

They stare helplessly at one another, smiles splitting their faces, their eyes locked, neither willing to break the connection they're sharing right now, both hearts hammering so hard Kate swears she can hear their syncopated rhythm in the quiet of the loft.

Because Kate Beckett finally told Richard Castle that she loves him, is _in love_ with him, and god but it feels so good to get that off her chest. Almost as good as it feels for him to hear it.

Castle's hand is still outstretched towards her but she hasn't moved the foot or so it would take to reach him. So when she says, "I should probably…" with a teasing lilt to her voice and a jerk of her head towards the front door, he lunges, reaching out for her fingers without even leaving his chair.

"Kate, get over here," he growls, the words catching on a choke of emotion, finally snagging her hand and reeling her in until she is standing between his legs, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he wraps his arms around her middle and lays his head against her stomach.

It's a comforting, yet possessive, position, and she finds that she likes it, she really, really likes it; the security of his embrace, the feel of his fingers tickling her sides, his ear pressed against her belly as if listening there.

She smoothes her hands down his back, sweeps them across his shoulder blades, soothing, dissolving some of the tension she finds in his muscles in the process as she bows over him, wrapping her body around him, leaning down to press a light kiss to the back of his neck.

When she finally stands up straight again, she runs her fingers through his hair since he seems in no hurry to let go of her just yet.

"Castle," she whispers finally, gently easing out of his arms, her fingers tracing the shell of his ear. "I need to call your mom, let her know the coast is clear to come home. And then I should probably go back to my…"

"Kate. _Please?_" he whines, sliding his hands around her waist again to hold her there. "I told myself when we got together that I would _never_ beg you to stay, but screw that. I've kept my mouth shut one too many times in the past when I should have spoken up, when it would have been for the best…"

"Oh, and me staying _here_, _tonight_…_with you_…that's for the best, is it?" she asks, laughing at him when he pouts up at her, so damned adorable. "Best for whom?"

"Make it worth your while," he promises, grinning slyly at her now, hands wandering south to palm the twin mounds of her ass as he tugs her closer, blows a raspberry against her stomach making her giggle and squirm.

He squeezes her buttocks lightly and his eyebrows shoot up in suggestion.

"Oh, really?" she says, sliding his hands back up to a safer location.

"Mmm-hmm," he replies, nodding, all super-cocky confidence and twinkling eyes now, his chin pressing into her warm stomach as he looks up at her, fingers dancing across the back of her ribcage like he's playing piano.

"Castle, we still have things we need to talk about," she tries, hoping he'll focus for a second, not wanting to put him off exactly, but needing to capitalize on tonight's forward momentum and her own bout of openness.

"You just told me that you love me, Kate. What more is there to say?" he asks, looking dreamy and adoring as he repeats her words back to her.

"Yes. Yes, I did," she admits, with a smile, tenderly smoothing her thumb over his eyebrow. "And I meant it, every word. But that doesn't fix things, Castle. Not really."

"Does for me," he says, brushing his lips across the soft cotton of her camisole, trying to nudge the edges of the loose, drapey sweater she threw on before coming over here tonight apart with his nose.

"You smell of fresh air and softner," he says, somewhat inanely, and Kate laughs again, shaking her head from side-to-side, cool fingertips affectionately stroking the back of his head as he nuzzles against her, seeking out more of her warmth and her scent.

"Are you sure you didn't touch that Scotch?" she asks, nails scratching lightly at his scalp to get his attention.

The gesture fails, only ends up with him closing his eyes to her touch and purring like a kitten against her stomach.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asks, sighing and giving in to him, like she really has any option after the day's emotional drama. They both need to stay close tonight.

"Not going to let _you _go, you mean," he corrects, grasping her more firmly all of a sudden before he rises from his chair, hoisting her into the air as he stands and she squeals, clutching onto his shoulders for balance.

"Castle, if you drop me, I swear to God…"

"Never, Kate. I've got you," he reassures her, and they both understand that he means more than this moment, this perfect moment.

* * *

He has one large hand splayed at the small of her back, while his other hand is lifting one of her thighs and wrapping it around his waist. She takes the hint and wraps her other leg around him too, allowing him to carry her through to his bedroom without a fight before he does them both an injury.

He deposits her gently on the bed, towering over her as she goes down against the mattress, and then, with the hard length of his body pressing into her, his knees between her open thighs and one hand resting either side of her head, he kisses her. And when his mouth touches hers, she feels it; so much more _give_ in the kiss than before, so much more love and openness and trust. And her heart sings knowing that she was the one to put these feelings there.

Maybe she's better at this than she thought.

He pulls away before she can enjoy herself too much, and he smirks at her confusion as she chases after his mouth, gently swiping her lips with his thumb before he grasps her hands to pull her upright again.

"Okay, miss. You wanted to talk. We can talk," he says, trying to take her lead and do this the right way for a change, because so far _her way_ is working out way better than his at moving them forward in leaps and bounds.

"Rick, I really should call your mom."

Castle wanders over to his closet, grabs a t-shirt out of the drawer and then comes back over to her.

"Call my mom, put this on, get comfortable, and _then _we can talk."

"And where are _you_ going?" she asks, holding his pale blue, baby-soft cotton shirt to her chest as he makes to leave the room.

"You love me, Kate," he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of simplicity, shrugging his shoulders as he walks backwards out of the room. "That calls for Champagne."

* * *

When he comes back in, Kate is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a stack of pillows at her back. She's wearing his shirt and not much else, just hanging up with Martha, sincere words of thanks on her lips, when he approaches the bed with an ice bucket containing a bottle of Billecart Salmon Rosé Champagne, and, in the other hand, two crystal champagne flutes.

"So, you weren't kidding about the Champagne, I see?"

"There are two things I never joke about, Kate – sex with you and good alcohol."

"That looks more like _great_ alcohol."

"It is. I just didn't want to brag."

"About the sex or the booze?" she fires back.

"Oh, very funny. You're on form tonight, Beckett."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry to do this to you, but I'm going to have to get serious again for a moment."

"Aww, Kate," he grumbles, expertly pouring two glasses of blush pink fizz.

"Castle, you're still a suspect in a murder investigation."

"Oh yeah," he says, that fact just dawning on him as he turns to hand her a glass. "What are we going to do about that?"

"Well, I know I said a long time ago that I'd break you out of jail, but I'd really rather it didn't come to that. _So_, I propose that we go into the Precinct first thing tomorrow, and I recuse myself from the case, cite a conflict of interest, and then we firm up on your alibi for Friday night."

"What? _No_!"

"Castle, are you _kidding me_? If we don't do this you could go to jail for the _rest of your life_."

"But I didn't do it," he says, settling on the bed facing her, and for a second she almost laughs, because how many times over the years has she heard those same words come out of a suspect's mouth as if saying them is all it takes to make for innocence.

"_I_ know that. But the evidence says otherwise, and your best chance of changing Ryan and Esposito's minds about the facts as they see them right now is to come clean about where you were Friday night."

"But I thought you wanted to keep this – _us_ – private. Kate, if I _do _this, it'll expose our relationship and it might even _end_ our partnership."

"Castle, if you _don't _do this all of that will be a mute point."

"You mean you wouldn't wait for me if I was sent down for twenty-five years? You wound me, Beckett," he clowns, clutching at his chest.

"Castle, this is serious. Don't even joke about that. The way I see it, we wanted privacy until we figured out exactly what _this_ was between us. I'd say we've done that already. We're both agreed that we're in this, _right_? C_ommitted_?" she asks, meeting his eyes with a steady, unflinching look.

He's so earnest when he looks back at her that it makes her heart vault.

"Ah, yeah, _definitely_. All in. But, are you _sure?_ I mean…?"

"Castle, just go with it. We go in there tomorrow and we explain that you were with me Friday night, at my apartment…_all_ night. Their jaws will hit the floor, Gates will probably throw a party now that she has a legitimate reason to throw you out…"

Castle goes to speak but Kate holds up a hand to stop him.

"Ah…but, but, but…" says Kate, trying to halt his interruption. "I will _strenuously_ _resist_ any efforts to have you removed, don't worry. And after we've laid our cards on the table, I will encourage the boys to work on the precept that your fingerprints were planted at the scene, and that the jewelry you were seen buying was in fact…"

"For you," Castle finishes for her, stroking the back of her hand.

"Castle, you do know you don't have to buy me gifts," says Kate, going off at a bit of a tangent.

"I do. But this was for our anniversary. And I wanted to get you something special."

"You're really sweet," she says, blushing a little as she ducks her head.

When she looks back up, he's watching her again. So she clinks glasses with him and then sinks back into the pillows, a pensive, faraway look on her face.

"I know that look, Katherine Beckett. What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours?" Castle asks, wrapping his fingers around her bare ankle.

Kate sighs, toying with the hem of the pillowcase to buy some time, and then looks up at him from beneath her long lashes.

* * *

"You're not going to like this."

"Hey, no man ever likes any conversation that is preceded by the words '_we need to talk_'. But I figure that since you just told me you love me, then you're not about to break up with me," he grins, so sure of himself that Kate finds herself shaking her head at him, a helpless grin of her own on her face.

"Your ex-wives," she begins, to pull him back into line, laying her chin on her knee so she can watch his face as they talk about this, a much-needed discussion she's been avoiding for weeks.

"Oh boy," says Castle, taking a healthy swig of Champagne before bracing himself for whatever's coming next.

"Mmm," hums Kate. "_That _keen to talk about it, huh?"

"Would _you_ be keen to talk about Dr. Motorcycle Boy?" he asks, challenging her right back.

"I didn't marry him, Rick," she points out. "_In fact,_ I broke up with him as soon as I knew your feelings for me."

"Well, I was divorced when I met you."

"Twice, and it didn't stop you revisiting both ex-wives since we've known one another. Deep-fried Twinkie was the phrase as I seem to recall."

Castle makes a distasteful face.

"Kate, what do you want me to tell you? I made two colossal mistakes, _years_ ago, before I even met you. If I had my time over, I'd have waited for you."

"Now you're just poking fun at me, Castle," she says, swatting him on the arm. "We both know that isn't true. You _hate_ to be alone. No way you would have waited until I came along."

"I waited _years_ for you, Kate. Okay, so I screwed up near the end, but only because I thought you didn't feel the same way about me. And, you forget I had to watch you date other guys while we both knew there was more going on between us than some…_work_ _partnership_ thing."

"Fair point," concedes Kate. "I just…do you know _why_ your marriages failed?" she asks quietly, wondering how far she can push this.

Castle sits up straighter in bed, thinks sincerely about her question for about a minute, and then he rubs a hand down over his face before replying.

"_Honestly_?"

"That would be a start."

"I was a different person back then. Immature."

Kate snorts out a laugh, her eyebrows shooting up, but he just glares at her, eyes narrowed, before continuing.

"As I was saying, before you so _rudely_ interrupted me, I was _more _immature back then. _Lonely_, desperate for female company as you so elegantly just pointed out. But above all, I think I made the wrong choice of partner on both counts. Meredith was only ever supposed to be someone I was dating. It was never that serious. But when Alexis came along it turned into something _more_ far too quickly. _I_ tried to turn it into something _more_, to give both Alexis and myself the traditional two-parent family with roses over the door that I thought I had missed out on growing up. You saw me as some Page 6 playboy when you met me, but I'm really a traditional soul at heart. And it turns out, having one _good_, committed parent, is way better than having two bad ones who don't really belong together."

Kate nods thoughtfully, accepting his answer, grateful for his openness.

"And Gina? How does she fit in there?"

"Gina is a great person; professional, kind, attractive, smart. But she probably falls into that convenience category. We made sense, as a couple, on paper – we worked together, we were both single, so why the hell not?"

"But you _married_ her, Rick. There must have been more to it than that," insists Kate.

"I'm a romantic at heart, like I said. You _know_ that. But if you're asking did I _love her_? The answer is that I thought I did at the time, but in the end, we weren't right for one anther, so I guess I really didn't. Eventually I drove her crazy and she got on my nerves."

Kate laughs, easing the tension a little.

"I can relate," she says, ducking back, away from the hand that reaches out to pinch her side.

"What about you? Why'd you never end up making it down the aisle?" asks Castle, since they're laying all their cards on the table and he has wondered exactly this on more than one occasion. "I mean, look at you, Kate. You're gorgeous. What sane man wouldn't want to marry you? You'd make one hell of a bride."

"Maybe I'm not the marrying kind," suggests Kate lightly, shrugging her shoulders and trying to be off-hand about it, covering her mouth and averting her eyes by taking another sip of champagne. "You ever think of that?"

"Kate. What are we doing here?" he asks, and the ring of disappointment in his voice cuts straight through her.

"What do you mean?" she asks, trying to sound innocent, but already having a pretty good idea what he's getting at.

"We said _honest_, or there's no point," he reminds her, giving her hand a quick squeeze of encouragement.

"You're right. I'm sorry," she sighs, shifting on the bed so that her knees are drawn up protectively in front her chest, her chin resting against them, the champagne flute dangling from one hand as she begins to answer his question again.

* * *

"I guess after my mom died, I got so caught up in fighting through every day just to stay upright. I had to grow up a lot faster than my peer group. That was kind of isolating, you know?" she says, looking at Castle for comprehension, rather than pity. "My life changed overnight and I changed right along with it."

He's watching her the way he does when she starts into a story about her past; like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever heard, and she has his complete attention. He loves the way she opens up to him now, these rare glimpses into her old life that she's started sharing with him more and more.

"Joining The Academy, making my way in a man's world, trying to make detective, and then working to solve her case meant I just didn't have time for a serious relationship. Sure, I dated. But I never really let anyone in; get close enough to know the real me."

She laughs out of embarrassment at what she's about to say, placing her glass on the nightstand, and then looking down at her bare, red-painted toes. She runs a hand nervously through her hair again before looking up at him.

"I swear to God, Castle, when we first met I never though I'd be doing this - sitting here in bed with you, wearing one of your shirts, drinking Champagne and just…_talking_," she says, letting out a bubble of laughter. "A one night stand, sure that crossed my mind…but _this_?" she shakes her head as if she can't believe her luck.

"Good surprise or…"

"Like you even have to ask? Or are you just on the hunt for more compliments?" she teases.

"Hey, the odd compliment never hurt anyone," he says, giving her a cheeky grin.

Kate watches him with deep love and affection, her head tilted slightly to the side as she quietly admires his face, before pushing on with this honesty session they're suddenly deep in the middle of.

"You were the first person I ever really shared the details of that awful day with, and I let you see just how it has affected me ever since. Not out of choice to begin with, I have to admit. But you really helped me, Castle. You knew what I needed even when I didn't. I'm so grateful to you for that, for pushing even when I pushed back, for knowing me well enough, for caring enough, to make me hear you."

"Hey, I just wish I could have been around for you at the time," he says, smoothing a comforting hand down her arm. "You _and_ your dad"

"Better late than never, right?" repeats Kate, in an echo of Castle's earlier comment about her 'I love you'.

"Yeah," he agrees a little gruffly, emotion clogging his throat as he nods for her to continue.

"Sure, Royce knew, but that was different. He was my training officer, inside the job. We talked about the facts, but not so much about the emotions that swamp you when something like that happens to you. I think I was scared to let anyone close after my mom. Frightened of losing someone I loved again. And I just never found the right person before…" and she almost backs out of saying it, but a quick intake of breath and the word, "…now. _Before now_," she repeats, completing the sentence confidently.

* * *

Castle's smiling broadly at her, far too delighted with himself for Kate's liking, so she pushes one more time with the question that lies at the heart of her insecurity.

"If you thought you loved Gina, and eventually you realized you were wrong…"

Kate bites her lip, can't quite bring herself to say the rest.

"How do I know that this is real…with _you_?" he fills in for her. "How do I know we're going to last?"

Kate nods, embarrassed to be asking him, because he could level the same criticism at her, and yet _he_ is always the one with such an abundance of faith in them.

"Because I waited for you, Kate."

He says this as if it's the simplest thing in the world, and maybe it is.

"I don't think I've _ever_ had to wait for anything in life that I really wanted before, that really mattered to me. I either bought it, charmed my way to get it, or I gave up and walked away. You were the _one thing_ I knew I needed to learn patience for, and hard as it was, all the bumps we faced along the way, I only loved you more as time went on and I got to know you better. And since we've been together…" he shakes his head, as if all the recent memories he's re-experiencing as he explains this to her are just blowing his mind, "…_everything_ has been so much better than I could ever have dreamed it, so much easier, happier, more fun. I can't imagine being without you now," he confesses.

Kate covers her mouth with her hand, closes her eyes for a second, needing to gather herself and hold in some of the emotion that's rushing to the surface, pushing to get out.

"I feel that way too," she admits finally, reaching for his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

"So, do you think we might be able to put some of those doubts to rest now?" he asks tentatively, moving closer to her on the bed until their knees are touching.

"How about a toast," Kate suggests instead, raising her glass. "To us and to the future."

"To us," Castle agrees, clinking his glass with hers.

"I'm not saying we need to make this anymore permanent than it already is. I'm in no rush to do that. But, we got through 'I love you' and no one ran screaming from the room."

"_Got through_? Ever the romantic, Beckett," he says, admonishing her with a headshake and a smile.

"Shut up. You know what I mean. We've come a long way from where we started out, Castle."

"That we have," he agrees, unable to take his eyes off her.

"_So_…tomorrow. You ready?" she asks, sliding her free hand up along his arm to his shoulder, her fingers starting to tease the back of his neck.

"If you are?"

"The case aside, I think it's time. I hate lying to our friends, and…I'm proud of us, Castle, of what we have together. So, let's debut this thing, and clear up your involvement in this case at the same time."

"Do you have any idea how sexy it is when you show me how sure you are of us?"

"Really?" purrs Kate, a daring light in her eyes as she abandons her Champagne glass to crawl closer to him, reaching out her hand to cup the back of his head, her other hand coming to rest dangerously high up on his thigh.

"Uh-huh," replies Castle, brushing his nose gently across hers in a teasing little Eskimo kiss, still holding her gaze in a way she finds so arousing and intimate that it makes her stomach flip.

"Show me," she whispers, brushing her lips across his as they both shiver in anticipation.

A/N: Still with me? I figured we have a week to go until 5x05, so another chapter wouldn't hurt…? Liv


	5. Chapter 5 The Fear Factor M Rated

Disclaimer: The answer's still no!

**Improbable Cause**

**Chapter 5 – The Fear Factor**

* * *

_A/N: Warning: M Rated content and language. This one's for CastleCrazie – yes, I'm naming and shaming! You asked, so…_

Castle touches her face. It's the barest, gentlest of touches, and she leans into him, all hint of teasing disappearing as they watch one another do this; put themselves back together again after a hellish few days of stress and suspicion that threatened to tear them apart.

Because, sure, Kate knew where Castle was Friday night, but the fingerprints and the security cam footage from the jewelry store fed straight to her insecurities about how committed he is to her, whether he's completely given up his old life of random women and a love of the limelight. But the look he's giving her right now and the things he's saying with his hands dispel any doubts she might have left after their talk.

Kate realized tonight that she has to stop letting other people's opinions, even her own traitorous inner voice, inside her head. And she needs to start looking at the man in front of her, this man who has changed so much since she's known him. This man who loves her enough that he wanted to spare their relationship from the Precinct gossips even if it meant the cloud of suspicion hung over him long enough that he needed a lawyer until they could figure another way out of this mess.

Bottom line - she needs to trust him more.

* * *

They pull back a little, sink against the pile of down pillows, drink some more Champagne in companionable silence, curled up in his bed, knowing that they have all night together, the rest of their lives God willing, to start something more.

Castle tops up their glasses, and Kate giggles when the bubbles from the supremely good Champagne he's been chilling for just such an occasion rush up her nose as she drinks too quickly after he stops pouring.

"Whoa there, Detective," he warns her, taking a more ladylike sip from his own glass.

"You trying to get me drunk, Castle?" she teases, as he watches her over the rim of his crystal flute, drinking faster to catch up with her since he can see she's already getting loose, her eyes shining as the alcohol kicks in, relaxing her. And pretty soon, if things go to form, she'll get frisky and handsy with him, artful with that wicked tongue of hers. Too much and she gets sleepy, but just the right amount and it's _hello_ flirty, sexy Kate. He knows which one he's hoping to see tonight.

Kate sets her glass on the nightstand, seeming to have had enough for now. But Castle keeps on drinking, sliding his hand up and down her bare thigh where it emerges from beneath his impressively short t-shirt and then spreads out, endlessly tan and lithe against the stark white of the sheets on his bed.

"You're sure about tomorrow?" he asks her again, like he's reading her mind as he brushes the hair away from her neck and brings his lips down against the soft, sensitive skin he's just exposed, drawing a moan from her lips in the process.

"Castle, we already talked about this," she manages to get out, her eyes rolling back in her head as he takes her earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it over and over again until she lets out an "Ah shit, that's so good", her fingers clutching at his shoulders to hold the rest of her together.

He drains his second glass, eyes closing as the bubbles speed alcohol into his bloodstream and he starts to feel a little light-headed. He can't remember if he ate dinner, but he's pretty sure he was too depressed back then for food. He could eat a horse right now, but first there's Kate and tomorrow to worry about.

"I just want you to be sure," he tries again, his fingers lightly massaging the elegant arch at the base of her skull, working out the tension in her trapezius with his talented hands.

"I…oh God, do that again," she moans, dropping her chin onto her chest to give him better access to her neck.

He hums softly to himself as he works on her, enjoying her pleasure as much as she is. The alcohol takes all the tension out of his own body, but it also makes him feel a little on edge, aware of something, something troubling at the edge of his consciousness – a feeling he can't quite place. A fear.

"I'm sure, Castle. Of you, of us…don't worry. It'll be fine," she adds, pulling herself together enough to twist round and face him. "I'll give up my badge if I have to," she whispers quietly, before running her tongue along his jawline, pressing tiny, delicate kisses to his smooth skin in its wake.

She's completely undoing him tonight – giving him so much – and it's starting to scare him; just how much he loves her, how big this all feels, how important.

"I love you," she says again, brushing her lips across his with the lightness of a feather. "Just focus on that. Okay? We'll be fine," she reassures him, kissing him more soundly, though there's a gentleness to her that gathers him up and makes him ache for her in a whole new way; like they're sharing this intimacy for the first time all over again.

And something inside of him breaks; a crack, a fissure opening up, and the fear floods in; fear that he'll lose her one day, not to another man, but to a bullet, or a knife, or some crazed perp he isn't there to protect her from.

His heart starts to pound with the coalescing of this fear and her beautiful words; these new, oft desired, barely hoped for words she's finally able to say, and his blood begins to thrum in his veins hearing her repeat them again with her body pressed so close to his, the alcohol only serving to heighten everything.

* * *

Castle feels the strong jolt of arousal when she touches him again, whispering her love against his skin, and the effect she's having on him…it's so urgent, so overwhelming, that he needs her now, needs to possess her now; to know, to reassure himself that this is real, that she's here right in front of him. He needs to be surrounded by her, in her, on her, right now or…

* * *

Kate is shocked when Castle's arms encircle her and he half-tackles her to the mattress. One of his thighs presses down between hers forcing her legs apart, and she can feel the rock-hard length of him pushing insistently against her thigh muscle.

He wraps one large hand around her wrist, and then gathers up the other one, securing them both above her head, while he uses his teeth to pull up her shirt, exposing the soft, taut skin of her abdomen. He sinks down from his kneeling position to press his mouth against her bare stomach, before his tongue and teeth set to work laving the skin around her belly button, drawing a shuddering moan from her lips. He moves south, frantic kisses running up the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh, then along the line of her underwear, making her head spin as a stream of sensations come rapidly, one after the other, flooding her senses, and utterly confusing her.

Kate is writhing beneath his touch, still a little surprised as this turn of events. Everything about tonight has been slow and open and gentle and exposing. And now a rush of lust or fear or something else entirely seems to have taken hold of Castle, and he's like a man possessed.

He nudges her legs wider apart, hands still held firmly above her head, and then he manages to whip off his own shirt and pull down his boxers with his one free hand, so that he's naked above her.

Kate's eyes cut from his face to the impressive erection bobbing just above her stomach, and she arches up off the bed, her own arousal intensifying; a tight fist of pain building low down in her belly. Her hips make a slow roll against the mattress in anticipation as she glances back up to find Castle's face, to look into his eyes, to connect with him like they always do.

But he seems far away, his eyes slightly wild, anxious and agitated, and before Kate can utter a word he has two fingers inside her underwear, sliding through the clear, juicy slick of her arousal, and then just as swiftly he pulls them out again, confusing and frustrating her. But in the next second, he palms his own cock, smearing her juice around its tip, and then he moves her underwear roughly to one side instead of taking time to remove her panties, and she cries out as he pushes into her suddenly, without warning, and he grunts when his cock hits home and Kate's tight body stretches to surround him.

"Oh fuck," he groans, hips immediately starting to buck, thrusting up into her in an almost viscous, relentless rhythm, giving her no time to adjust or catch up.

Kate lets him take the lead, still a little confused. They've talked about how she sometimes likes it a little rough, likes him to take her, control things. But she's not entirely sure that's what this is. He seems disconnected from her, almost as if she isn't there at all. But this is Castle, and she knows he would never intentionally hurt her, so she still feels safe, even if the sex is more urgent and forceful than it is loving.

When he rolls them both onto their sides and hoists her uppermost thigh high up around his ribcage, her calf resting on his shoulder, still not making any eye contact with her, continuing to thrust his hips hard against her pubic bone in a move that has her crying out with every thrust, Kate finds herself just going with it, not questioning what's going on here. Richard Castle's muscular body had taken over, he loves her, she loves him, and her mind hazes out as a wash of newly heightened arousal accompanies that thought.

* * *

She pushes up into the next thrust of his hips, her nails digging into his biceps as she fights to hold on, to ride this out right along with him.

"Jesus, Castle," she pants, licking at her dry lips, as her breath comes in short, burning bursts when he begins to roam her body with his hands, her mind shattering into a million tiny pieces as he touches her everywhere.

He runs his hand down her spine, trailing his fingers over the dip at the small of her back, and then he continues on even lower until he reaches her tailbone. He has her nearly split in two, with one leg hoisted up so high and the other lying straight down the bed, pinned in place by his own even longer limb. So when he ghosts his fingertips down over her coccyx and into the sensitive spot between her parted buttocks she hisses and then whines, an absolute shock of pleasure rippling through her, forcing her hips arching up into his once more when his fingers reach the place that they are joined. And then her body gives in, it gives into the wave of pure ecstasy coursing through her from this intimate touch, and she comes with a startled scream of his name just barely contained within her throat.

The shock of her powerful orgasm triggers his. Her body bowing down to the pleasure he has just forced from her sends him over the edge, and he spills into her again and again, his face contorted by the sweet agony of his release as she shatters around him.

Then silence settles once more, broken only by their heavy breathing and thundering hearts.

* * *

Kate watches Castle's face with concern as he slowly comes back to himself, returning to the quiet of the bedroom as if he'd just spent the last five minutes in a trance.

He looks down at Kate, sees the rumpled t-shirt he roughly tugged up, baring her stomach and one of her breasts, looks further down to where he's still buried inside her, and sees her underwear pulled haphazardly to one side.

"What…?" he mumbles, licking at his parched lips, as a bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face and then courses on over his neck, pooling at the base of his throat.

"Hey. You okay?" asks Kate, softly kissing his cheek, and gently stroking her hand through his hair. "Kinda lost you there for a moment," she tells him, concerned by the confusion she sees on his face.

He withdraws slowly, and as he does so, Kate guides him down to rest against her shoulder, draping a leg across his thigh, holding him close, trying to ignore the burn his withdrawal leaves in the soft tissue between her legs.

"Kate, what just happened?" he asks, sounding wary and guilty.

"You zoned out a little. I…I'm not completely sure. But you were…you were pretty…um…_enthusiastic_," she says, not wanting to alarm him or make him feel anymore guilty than he already seems to.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, trying to raise himself up on one elbow to see her face.

"Shhh," hushes Kate, keeping him in place, nestled against her, wrapped up in her arms. "You're just a little anxious, I think. No harm done."

"You're sure? That's never happened…I mean I've never…Oh God, Kate. If I hurt you…?"

"Rick, you didn't," she says firmly. "I can take care of myself. You're just a little spacy, that's all. Once we sort things out tomorrow you'll be fine," she says, trying to reassure him and hoping that's all this is; a reaction to the stress he's been under.

"I can't lose you," he blurts, rubbing his hand over his eyes, embarrassed, but unable to stop the words from coming. "I love you. I can't lose you now. Not when everything is so good between us."

Not for the first time, Kate wonders just what lasting effect watching her almost die in the back of an ambulance has had on him? If maybe she isn't the only one suffering from the after shocks of that day. She had control of her recovery, even though it was brutally hard, while he had nothing but silence, bad memories, and a broken heart.

"You're not going to lose me, Castle," she reassures him, kissing the top of his head. "We'll fix this, you and me, and then no more hiding. Okay? Now, I think we should get some sleep. You good to sleep?" she asks, pulling the sheet up over them, beginning to stroke his hair again to settle him down.

She feels him relax after a few moments, his body getting heavier against hers, a dead weight. When he starts to snore, she eases herself out from under him, makes her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and pee. Her make-up is smeared, and there's a livid purplish mark on her collarbone when she checks herself out in the mirror. She washes her face, drops a couple of Tylenol for the Champagne headache she can feel coming on, and then she goes back to bed.

Castle is sprawled out on his back, his mouth hanging open, fingers clutching the sheet to his chest like a sleepy child. Kate sets the alarm on her phone for six, and then climbs into bed bedside her partner, gently easing him onto his side to halt the snoring and prevent him from waking up with a sore throat. She watches him sleep until her own eyes start to droop, and then she crawls alongside him, feeding on his warmth as she sends herself off to sleep by planning out the speech she'll have to deliver at work tomorrow in an effort to save his skin.

"I love you," are the last words she speaks in the dark of his bedroom, an echoing "me too" coming back to her from the drowsy man by her side.

_A/N: So, I wanted to do something a little different with this M chapter, something a little edgier. Hope it worked? Or I can always flee the country, I guess. People have asked to see their big exposé at work, so that'll be the next chapter. We have time, and it's not like we're going to run out of paper! ;) Liv_


	6. Chapter 6 Dawning Realization

Disclaimer: Still wishing, but that don't make it so.

* * *

**_Improbable Cause_**

**_Chapter 6 – Dawning Realization_**

When she wakes the next morning and rolls over in his bed, she's sore…in lots of places. Her body protests the over-stretch to the tendons at the top inside of her thigh where Castle hoisted her leg up into that acrobatic pose worthy of the Kama Sutra; there's the bruised soft-tissue between her legs of course, and when she touches the bite mark on her clavicle, not only does it smart, but her wrists feel tender too from where Castle held on too tightly when he pinned her arms above her head.

Kate gets out of bed, gingerly, gives her sleeping partner a glance as she makes her way to the en suite to brush her teeth and use the bathroom. It hurts to pee, but she tries to ignore the sting in favor of focusing on the task at hand this morning - getting her boyfriend off a murder rap.

When she returns to the bedroom, she turns off the alarm on her phone. It's only 5.45am and still dark outside, so she crawls back under the covers to savor another fifteen minutes of warmth in Castle's bed before they have to face the day.

She lies on her side, lets her mind wander as she watches him sleep. His hair is adorably rumpled, his eyes are puffy, and his facial muscles are slack; lines erased, jaw shadowed with scruffy, dark stubble. She watches his chest rise and fall with every even breath, his large hands resting on his stomach, the smooth, perfect skin of his shoulders and arms laid bare on top of the sheets. God, how she loves him. The years they've wasted, the opportunities missed; they pain her every time she has a chance to look at him like this – unaware and unguarded. And the hurt she inflicted on him that summer after she was shot…

Kate closes her eyes to the uncomfortable memories. How will she _ever_ make that up to him?

* * *

"Hey. You're awake," he mumbles, one eye cracking open to peer blearily at her.

His voice is rough with sleep, and he squints at the shaft of light coming from the bathroom, the light she left on to keep her company while she watched over him.

"You sleep okay?" Kate asks, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his sleep-dampened hair back with her fingers.

"Mmm," he hums, palming the back of her head and stretching to kiss the side of her mouth as his eyes droop closed again.

Kate flinches as his hand lowers, fingers latching onto her shoulder, and his thumb accidentally presses down on the bite mark on her collarbone.

Castle feels her tensing up and pulling away from him, and his eyes pop open in confusion.

Kate looks guilty when his gaze roams her face, searching for an explanation for the hiss of pain she let out. When he sees the livid purple and red half-moon of teeth marks, he blinks in horror, does a double take, and then shakes his head at her, his brain in complete denial at first.

When Kate's hand comes up to cover the bruising, her eyes slowly rising to meet his, he sits up abruptly in bed, holding onto his head when a rush of blood catches him off-guard, a thumping headache blooming between his temples.

"Before you freak out," she says, "it looks worse than it is. I mean it's nothing really."

Castle has a hand over his mouth, and if she's not mistaken, he looks like he might be about to vomit.

"Do you feel okay?" asks Kate, kneeling in front of him, tenderly pressing a cool hand to his forehead.

"Do I…?" he splutters, pulling away from her touch, grasping her wrist as he does so, and his eyes widen in horror as he spots the bruising on the inside of her arm. "Kate, you have a _bite mark_ on your _collarbone_ and _bruising_ on your _wrists_. Did I…? Did I _do this_?" he hisses, his eyes widening in dawning astonishment.

His voice is barely a whisper when he finishes his last question.

Kate nods slowly in response, but then she grabs his hand as he rears back away from her in disgust at his own actions.

"Rick. Rick, _listen_ to me," she says, holding his face between both of her hands, looking into his eyes to get him to focus on the information she needs him to absorb. "You were a little out of it last night. A little _stressed_, I think. But _nothing_…I mean, _nothing_ _happened_," she says firmly, trying to reassure him of the things he clearly can't remember.

"Nothing _happened_? How can you say _nothing happened_? Just_ look_ at you, Kate…"

"Castle, I gave you a _hickey_ worse than this when we first…uh…"

"You have an impression of my _teeth_ in your _shoulder_, Kate. I _broke_ the skin. You probably need a…a tetanus shot," he stutters.

"You're _not_ a canine, Castle," says Kate dryly, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

"Eh, those _are_ my canine's if I'm not mistaken," he replies, tentatively touching the skin near the wound site, apologizing profusely once again when she shrinks away from his touch. "Kate, I am _so sorry_. I don't know what came over me. I'm…"

He puts his head in his hands, closing his eyes in mortification.

"I feel like I'm living in the middle of a nightmare, and the only bright spot was finally having you on my side, _believing_ in me. But then I wake up this morning and…_this_," he says, gesturing at her shoulder again before letting his hand drop heavily onto the bed.

"Castle, you've been under a lot of stress these last few days," Kate reminds him, lying back down in bed and patting the space beside her for him to join her.

He reluctantly gives in, laying down next her, and she quickly moves closer to rest her head on his shoulder, her hand pressed against his bare stomach. She kisses the warm place over his heart, trying to lavish him with love to take away some of the hurt and worry and guilt he's experiencing.

"You and I both know it's procedure, Castle. But having that intrusion into your home…not fun. And then top that off with the arrest…" she says, smoothing her hand up and down his arm to comfort him. "But we're going to fix all of that today."

"Kate, I'm not so sure…"

"We don't have a choice, Rick. And anyway, it's time. We have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. In fact, quite the opposite. We've supported each other through a lot over the last four years…"

"But we have _everything_ to lose by coming clean," he argues.

"No. No, not everything," says Kate, shaking her head so that her hair brushes back and forth across his naked shoulder. "So, worse case scenario, Gates forces you to leave the Precinct. We are about _way_ more than murder cases and a close working partnership, Rick. _This_, what _we_ have, it exists outside of the oxygen of homicide investigations and dead bodies now. We're _building_ something here. At least, I hope we are?" she says, shifting her position against his chest until she can see his face.

"There's nothing I want more, Kate. You _know_ that. But…"

"If this is about what happened last night, Castle, I will kick your butt."

"I assaulted you, Kate, and I can barely remember any of it."

"First of all, if you had assaulted me, you'd have come off looking a lot worse than I do. And second of all, the sex was a little rougher than normal, sure, but believe me, we both enjoyed ourselves. So can we just _please_ focus on today; on what we're going to tell Gates and the boys to get you off this murder charge?"

* * *

Castle stays silent for a few moments. Somewhere during their back-and-forth he'd gathered her closer to him, his arms cradling her securely against his still sleep-warm body. Finally Kate feels him shift, and he presses his lips against the top of her skull in a silent, tender kiss.

"You know I would never hurt you, don't you?" he asks, carding his fingers through her hair. "Kate I love you so goddamn much it hurts to look at you some days. When I think about how I could have lost you or…or how we came so close to never knowing any of _this_…"

"I trust you, Castle. And we _do_ have each other now. So…_please_ try to put all of that out of your mind. I know it's hard. Look at me with my mother all these years later. But let's focus on what we _do_ have, instead of what we almost missed out on, _hmm_?"

Kate feels Castle nod against the top of her head, and then he lets out a long, slow breath through his nose.

"Make breakfast with me?" he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

"Only if you promise to clean out the juicer after," says Kate, rolling onto her stomach to kiss him gratefully for the effort she can hear him making. "I had orange pulp under my nails for the rest of day last time," she mock-complains, as they crawl out of bed together to start their day on a more hopeful note than the one before.

_A/N: This was going to get way long if I carried on into the Precinct. So I promise that'll happen in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed their early morning chat. Liv_


	7. Chapter 7 Coming Clean

Disclaimer: I had this dream last night...but then I woke up. The answer's still no.

* * *

_**Improbable Cause**_

_**Chapter 7 – Coming Clean**_

When Kate emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, another one in her hands to squeeze water droplets out of her hair, Castle is hovering in front of the full length mirror holding up two freshly laundered shirts on wire, dry-cleaners' hangers, the plastic still layered over the top.

"Which one says _innocent_ to you?" he asks her, turning to face Kate with a serious, worried, pinched expression on his face as he holds up the two shirts for her to look at, accompanied by a rustling of plastic and crinkly paper.

"_You_ say innocent to me," she says, standing on tiptoe to press her mouth against his in a firm, confident kiss, grasping hold of his well-defined biceps to steady herself.

"_Kate_," he whines, still wanting her to choose for him evidently.

"Okay, this one," she says, pointing to the rich, periwinkle blue dress shirt with the spread collar and French cuffs. "Brings out your eyes," she adds, getting a groan in response. "It's not a beauty pageant, Castle," she reminds him, patting his chest and giving him an affectionate smile.

"No, but if there's a line-up or a perp walk, I want to look my best. Should I wear a suit?" he asks her, and Kate has to cover her mouth with her hand and turn away.

Because while none of this is funny, she finds her boyfriend's antics just so endearingly '_Castle_', so over-dramatic, that she might bust out a grin anyway.

"Wear your lucky cufflinks," she says instead, running a hand down his arm and squeezing his wrist before she goes back into the bathroom to dry her hair.

* * *

Kate is dressed and ready to go. She has already cleared their breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, wiped down the counter, and now she's hovering by the island in the kitchen trying to focus on this morning's New York Times, still standing while she waits for her partner.

She's wearing a white silk shirt, the collar cut high enough that her bruise is covered, and a black pants suit with black heels that she hopes makes her look super professional. She's trying desperately hard to keep her nerves at bay and hidden from her partner. They need this to go well this morning so that they can move on with their lives and get Castle out from under this cloud of suspicion and back into the Precinct, whatever else happens with the case.

Five more minutes pass and when he doesn't appear, Kate gives up waiting and decides to go and hurry him along. When she reaches his bedroom she finds him seated on the end of the bed she just helped him make up, one cuff flapped down over his hand, the other one folded back, his cufflinks poised between his fingers, and a face like he's given up.

"Castle?" she says quietly, sitting down beside him, jostling him slightly as they bounce on the bed until she settles. "What's…? We're going to be late. What's wrong?"

He holds up the small silver cufflink – the nib of a fountain pen – looking a little helpless.

"Couldn't get this to go in," he says, lifting his arm to indicate the one cuff he _has_ at least managed to fold back.

"And you couldn't call me?"

"I didn't want to…uh…"

Castle sighs, drops his head, runs a hand through his hair, and then turns his head to glance at her. "I feel like I'm screwing everything up for you, Kate. That I'm nothing but trouble for you…_at work_…"

"Okay, now I've heard it all. Give me the cufflinks, Castle, and let's get this show on the road."

Kate holds out her hand for the decorative silver pen nibs. When Castle doesn't move to give them to her she gently takes them from his hand, and then turns his wrist around so that she can begin fastening the cuff together for him like a patient mother with a docile child.

"Why do you put up with me?" he asks her, when she's finished fixing his shirt for him, holding onto her arm to stop her leaving before she can get up off the bed. "I…I mean I cause you trouble at work _all_ the time, the Captain hates my guts, I _never_ help with paperwork, I don't listen when you ask me to stay in the car, and…"

"And my life would be so much duller without you in it, Castle. Simple as that. I stopped not wanting you around a long time ago. You _do_ drive me nuts sometimes, that _is_ true. But those irritating little habits of yours became so much less irritating when I fell in love with you. So, can we just go now, please? Get this sorted out? _Hmm_?"

"Kate…?" says Castle, gently brushing across the soft, bruised spot on the inside of her wrist with his thumb before he lets her go. "I love you too."

* * *

When they enter the elevator at the Precinct, Kate can feel the tension coming off her partner in waves, and in a strange way it helps her to feel how nervous he is; it makes her step-up, be the strong one, take charge of this situation on both their behalves.

"Here," she says, nudging him as the doors close, "take my hand."

"Wh…what?" he stutters, glancing down at the hand she has outstretched towards him like he has no idea what to do with it.

Kate smooths her fingers across his palm, tightening around his hand until they are joined, side-by-side, as the elevator begins to rise.

When the doors open on the Homicide floor, Kate squeezes his hand once more before letting go.

"Just imagine I'm still holding onto you while we're in there. Because that's what I'll be doing," she tells him, stepping off the elevator and walking confidently towards the bullpen with Castle keeping pace by her side.

They encounter the boys first.

"Yo, Beckett. What's _he_ doing here?" asks Esposito, pointing to Castle.

"Yeah, Beckett. Gates'll freak if she sees you with him. He's still the main suspect in our case."

Ryan at least looks a little apologetic, and he turns to Castle and says, "Sorry, man."

Esposito just glares at the writer, his chest puffed out, macho style.

"Actually, we're here to see the Captain," Kate tells them, dropping her bag and jacket off by her desk, and then indicating for Castle to take up his regular spot, since he's currently hovering like a lost soul off to one side as if he doesn't belong here anymore. "We have a meeting with her in _oh_…ten," says Kate, checking her dad's watch.

"Plea deal? His lawyer coming in?" asks Esposito, jerking his head toward Castle, and then looking towards the elevator as if he expects some high-priced suit to step out at any minute.

Castle is squirming in his seat, looking like he might run given half a chance, so Kate lays a hand on his shoulder to settle him, and then she turns to glare at the guys, her eyes narrowing.

"_Seriously_, guys?" she says, singling Esposito out for a particularly vicious stare. "He's your _friend_. Don't forget that."

Ryan and Esposito gape at her.

"I'm going to get coffee. You comin' Castle?" she asks, before walking away, just assuming that the writer will follow her.

* * *

"They _hate _me," he hisses, once they're alone in the break room.

"They don't hate you. But they _are_ behaving like a couple of first rate jerks," says Kate, filling the coffee machine with grounds and then tamping them down vigorously.

"They think I _did _this," he squeaks, pacing up and down the room.

"No. They…" Kate shakes her head, but the rest of the denial dies on her lips, because it's pretty clear that they _do_ think he's guilty, and it would be insulting to Castle to deny it.

He stops pacing to look at her.

"Okay, so maybe they do. But, we just have to _ignore them_. Gates is all that matters right now. Those two will keep," says Kate, feeling an intense urge to fiercely defend her partner.

When their coffees are made, they make their way back out to Kate's desk, and settle down in their usual positions. Castle keeps shifting in his chair as if it's laced with nails, while Kate tries repeatedly, and fails, to concentrate on the forensics report that first placed Castle's fingerprints at the scene, looking as hard as she can at the data for a feasible explanation. In fact, any explanation, feasible or not, will do at this point.

* * *

"Detective Beckett? And _Mr. Castle_," sing songs Gates, her arms crossed over her chest, sober grey suit brightened up by a vivid, red satin blouse.

As the Captain's rich voice resounds across the bullpen, all four heads shoot up from behind computer monitors and one newspaper to look at her.

Kate rises from her chair and calmly slips on her suit jacket, studiously ignoring the stares of the two male detectives, and then she waits for Castle to get up too. He looks so pale and serious that she thinks he might be sick, so she grasps hold of his elbow and propels him ahead of her towards Gates' office.

"Just remember, my hand in yours this whole time," Kate whispers in his ear as they walk the few yards to the Captain's door, feeling the burn of Ryan and Esposito's eyes in their backs all the way.

* * *

"So, Detective. Mr. Castle. You asked to see me this morning. I'm intrigued. What is this all about?" she asks, looking from Kate to Castle and back again. "Because as lead Detective on this case, and with Mr. Castle as the prime suspect, I know you know that you shouldn't even be talking to one another without his lawyer present," she says to Kate.

"Sir, I…about that," says Kate, not sure where to begin really, other than to jump right into the puddle with both feet and make the biggest splash possible. "Mr. Castle and I…" she turns to give Castle a sideways glance, and finds his eyes on her - expectant and apologetic. He also looks terrified, for Kate or himself, she's not quite sure, but she pushes on regardless. "Rick actually _has_ an alibi for Friday night."

"Oh _really_? Care to explain _why_ this information is just coming to light now?" asks Gates, archly.

"Because he…uh…" Kate swallows, and then straightens up in her chair, thrusting her chin out defiantly as she says, "He was with me, Sir. Friday night, Castle was with me," she repeats clearly, and Gates' eyes widen in surprise, whether at this piece of information, or at the fact that Kate is openly declaring it in front of her, she's not certain.

"I see," comes the slow, terse reply, accompanied by the trademark pursing of lips. "And by with you…?"

"I mean that he was…at my apartment. _All night_. He spent the night…_with me_. We…uh…we're _together_, Sir. In a relationship. We have been for a few months now."

Kate pauses briefly to glance at her partner. Castle gives her a beautiful, encouraging smile that makes her heart flip before she continues.

"We wanted to keep it out of the Precinct, separate from the job. But with this case, and Castle's supposed involvement… Well, I'm sure you can see why we couldn't keep quiet about his alibi any longer."

"I do see that, I do," agrees Gates, steepling her fingers, obviously still digesting this little bombshell that has just been so neatly lobbed at her feet by her best detective.

"The planting of Castle's fingerprints at the crime scene and the faking up of that security footage, Sir, we have to…"

Gates holds up her hand, halting Kate's flow.

"Just a minute, Detective. You _are_ aware that workplace relationships within the NYPD are strictly frowned upon?"

"Yes, Sir. Yes, I am. But if I may, Sir? Castle is an _unpaid_ consultant to this Precinct, so strictly speaking…"

"You are _not_ co-workers," fills in Gates. "Yes, I see your ploy."

"My…my _ploy_?" says Kate, her voice rising at the implied slur.

Castle is tempted to reach out and touch her, to lay his hand on her arm to prevent her from rising to Gates' little jibe. Because any suggestion of insubordination would only play into the woman's hands right at this moment.

However, he manages to remain mute and keep his hands to himself for a few minutes longer, trusting Kate to handle this alone for once.

"Sir, Richard Castle has put in _countless _hours of his own time over the last four years, invested his _own money_, and risked his _life_ on many occasions to help this department solve cases. _Surely_ that has to count for something?" she all but begs. "You must have some leeway with regard to the rules, the authority to make an _exception_ perhaps in this case?"

"Detective, there are always options," Gates tells her cryptically. "And while it is no secret that I am not Mr. Castle's biggest fan," she says dryly, "I am also not blind to the…somewhat _unique_, _unorthodox_ perspective he sometimes brings to a case."

She looks at Castle when she says the next bit.

"Well done, Mr. Castle. _Bravo!_ You have my congratulations."

Castle and Kate watch the Captain warily; both pretty certain this little congratulatory speech isn't at all what it sounds like.

They're not disappointed.

"So, it seems that you did the time and it paid off in the end, Mr. Castle. You won the girl. But let me tell you, if I _see_ any _hand holding,_ or so much as a _lingering_ _glance_ inside my Precinct, from either of you, you will be out on that sidewalk so fast your head will spin. Do you understand me?" she barks, narrowing her eyes at the writer just to make sure he gets the message.

"Yes, Sir," they both chorus.

Kate breathes out, sagging back in the chair as she does so, more relieved that she thought she'd be that Castle seems to have been granted a free pass to stay on as her partner for now.

Keeping their hands to themselves will be the next challenge.

"So, the charges against Castle…?" says Kate, keen to keep up the momentum they seem to have gained while Gates is in a cooperative mood.

"Firm up on that alibi, update your DD5, and then hand the case off to Detective Ryan to run from here. Is there _anyone_ who can corroborate your Friday night plans?" asks Gates' wincing a little as she asks the question.

"The…the delivery guy. The one who brought over our Chinese," says Castle eagerly, and Kate bites her lip, embarrassed at having to let the Captain into their domestic setup like this.

"And you think he'll be able to give a statement to that effect, Mr. Castle? Some…some _random_, _spotty,_ teenage delivery boy?" she asks with surprising sarcasm.

Castle looks at Kate in confusion. Her eyes are wide and her lips are pressed together trying to hold in a smile.

"No…no, it's Mr. Huang. _Li_ Huang," repeats Castle. "He's like, what, Kate…_fifty_? Fifty-five?"

Kate nods silently, her cheeks sporting an attractive pink blush.

"He knows us. We order from there all the time," blurts Castle, and Kate so wishes that she could gag him right now.

"Of course you do," notes Gates dryly, shaking her head. "Then get his statement, and let's move on with this," she tells Kate, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

"What should we…uh…the boys, Sir? We have to tell them something. What would you like us to say?"

"About you two?" asks Gates, in surprise.

"Mmm-hmm," nods Kate, biting her lip again.

"Are you trying to tell me that those two detectives out there know _nothing_ about your little…_arrangement_?" asks Gates, suddenly looking very amused.

Kate and Castle both shake their heads.

"As I said, we wanted to keep it quiet at work."

"Then I'm impressed. If those two don't know, you've done a good job of hiding it. Maybe there's hope for you after all."

"So, what do we tell them? We don't want to keep it from them forever. We work so closely together, they're our friends, and this case…"

"Your _friends_ seemed pretty intent on locking up your partner, Detective," Gates reminds Kate, and her comment really stings because it's true.

"They're all about the justice," Castle says, generously defending the boys, though he too had felt that they were being a little over-zealous in going after him.

"Let's hope you're right, Mr. Castle."

She turns back to Kate.

"What you tell them is your business. _I_, however, do _not_ want interpersonal relationships breeding like rabbits in my precinct, do you hear? So ask them to keep the information to themselves. And whoever wins that damn office pool…" she adds, as an afterthought. "They do _not_ get to crow about it. _Understand_?"

"_Pool_?" Castle starts to ask, but Kate's already on her feet, keen to make a break for it while they're ahead.

She takes Castle by the elbow, breaking the '_no contact'_ rule right away, and steers him to the door.

"Thank you, Sir," says Kate, pushing Castle out ahead of her. "You won't regret this, I promise," she assures her boss, hurrying out backwards.

"Make sure of it, Detective," says Gates grudgingly, waving impatiently for Kate to close the door behind her.

* * *

They head for the break room immediately; both of the same mind. When they get inside and close the door, they both double over in a fit of hysterical, nervous laughter, clutching onto one another to stay upright. Neither of them can speak, their breaths comes in suppressed, wheezy, hiccupping giggles, and it's only when the door swings open and they freeze in horror that they manage to get control of the hysteria and stand upright again.

"_So_, your meeting with Gates must have gone well then," observes Esposito, eyeing the two people in front of him suspiciously.

"We…uh…" Kate flounders, not having had time to prepare anything for her colleagues just yet.

And when she looks at Castle and sees his wide, happy grin, another helpless snigger bursts out of her mouth, setting him off again too.

"For the love of…what the heck is going on in here?" asks Ryan, appearing at Esposito's back to peer into the break room over his partner's shoulder, observing Kate and Castle's peels of laughter and doubled-over stance with wide-eyed surprise.

Castle, astonishingly, is the one to get himself under control first.

"We have something to tell you," he says, sobriety descending as he searches for the right words. Because they only get one shot at this. Once it's out there, it's out there.

_And_…nope. He's got nothing.

"Kate, perhaps you'd like to…_do_ the honors," he says, trying to look as if he's deferring to his girlfriend and partner in her place of work, but not really having a clue how to begin to tackle this.

It's like having '_the talk_', only with his boys, his _homies_, and suddenly it just feels too weird for him to even attempt it.

"Did Gates get you a deal? Cause the way you two are behaving, looks like the writer just got off a murder rap with a slap on the wrist," says Esposito, frowning.

Kate sighs, fed up with this macho routine.

"Javi, I told you…he didn't do it, and he's your _friend_. Ever heard of _loyalty_?"

"Beckett, you were there for the arrest," Esposito reminds her. "Didn't see _you_ protesting when we slapped the cuffs on him."

Kate looks supremely uncomfortable, and she glances up at Castle, shooting him an apologetic look, and then to everyone's surprise, she moves closer and takes his hand.

"I know, and I was so very wrong. Castle already knows how sorry I am," she says, and Castle puffs out his chest in pride, thinking, '_yeah, deal with that boys!_'

"So, how _did_ you clear this up?" asks Ryan suspiciously, staring intently at their joined hands, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Castle had an alibi for Friday night all along. He just wouldn't reveal where he was because…he was trying to protect me," she says, shrugging her shoulders as if this should explain everything.

The two blank stares she gets back tell her that it clearly doesn't.

"He was with _me_," she says, obviously having to spell it out for them.

Ryan looks _way_ less puzzled than Esposito, only surprised that she's admitting to it.

"What…like you were working on the case or something? On a _Friday night_, dude? Don't you two have anything better to do with your time? No hot chicks looking to have their chests signed these days, bro?" asks Esposito, all cocky and sarcastic as he playfully punches Castle on the shoulder.

Ryan shifts a little uncomfortably, and then he turns to his partner when Esposito goes to say something even more damning.

"Javi. Javi. _Javier!"_ he cuts in loudly, to shut him up. "I think what they're trying to tell us is that they…um…_did_ have something better to do on Friday night…with _each other_."

Esposito rears back away from them in horror, suddenly staring at their joined hands with a terrible, dawning realization.

"_No!_" he says, looking first at a nodding Kate, and then at a grinning, nodding Castle.

"Sorry, man. But it's true," says Castle, accepting Ryan's fist bump.

"How long?" asks Esposito.

"Not…a few months," admits Kate.

"_Months_? And you _kept it_ from _us_?" squeaks Esposito.

"We wanted to tell you. But we couldn't risk getting Castle kicked out."

"So, what'd Gates say?" asks Esposito.

"We have to keep it discreet at work, and, Ryan, you're taking over this case."

"So, no making out in the supply closet, bro," Esposito tells Castle, seeming to come round to the idea.

"Yeah, none of that," agrees Castle chuckling, giving Kate an adoring look.

"_Jeez_, none of _that_ either," complains Esposito, wrinkling his nose.

"_What?_" asks Castle, clueless about what he's doing.

"Making goo-goo eyes at Beckett, bro," explains the detective.

"Oh, _that_," smiles Castle. "Sorry. Can't promise anything there, Javi," he teases, looking at Kate again, affectionately bumping her with his hip as they smile at one another, all the tension they've been carrying around, along with this secret, now gone.

"Well, you'd better. 'Cause we already promised Gates," Kate reminds him.

"Seriously, you two. Congratulations. It's about time," says Ryan, finally speaking up.

"Yeah, what took you so long, bro?" teases Esposito, pulling Castle in for a man hug.

"Thanks, guys."

"Oh, and just a friendly warning, Castle. You hurt her and we hurt you, bro," he adds, miming '_I'm watching you'_.

"Eh, I'm pretty sure I could take all of you," says Beckett, shaking her head at the testosterone flying around the room.

* * *

A little later, while Castle and Esposito are re-examining the jewelry store security footage, Kate finally gets a quiet moment alone with Ryan.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" says Kate quietly. "How?"

For a fraction of a second, he looks as if he might deny it, but then he comes clean, tired of secrets.

"Weekend you guys went out to the Hamptons…"

"It was Aaron Learner, wasn't it?" hisses Kate, while Ryan grins and nods back at her. "That pompous son of a…_wait?_ And you didn't _tell_ anyone?"

Ryan shakes his head shyly.

"You found out who my boyfriend was, and you told _no one_?" Kate repeats, stunned by the loyalty Ryan has displayed. "Not even Javi? Or..or _Lanie_?"

Again he shakes his head.

"What's _not even Lanie_?" asks Esposito, coming up behind them.

"_Nothing!_" they both say, sharing a conspiratorial grin while Esposito glares at them, disgusted at being kept out of another secret.

"_Seriously_, bro? I can't even look at you right now," he huffs, stalking away to find Castle.

"Thanks, Kevin. Appreciate it," says Kate, nudging his arm.

"Just returning the favor," says Ryan. "Like you did for me and Jenny with that whole Michael Bailey business before our wedding."

"Yeah, but Jenny told you herself."

"She's my wife. We don't have secrets. And take it from me, Beckett, that is a good way to be," he says, winking at Kate, as she gives him a blushing smile. "If you want it to last, that is."

And, oh how she wants this to last.

_A/N: And so we reach the end of this tale, guys. I'm really looking forward to the actual show. It'll hurt for a bit, I think, but then I'm sure they'll be stronger by the end. Thank you for all of your kind, enthusiastic reviews and follows. Can't believe another one-shot ended up taking seven chapters to complete! Liv_


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